the tailwind thankfully picked up again and the crosswind died off. He scanned the mining facility for movement or activity. Everything on the ground appeared normal. Puffs of white vapor revealed where warm air and exhaust escaped from within the facility's buildings. It looked deceivingly unthreatening.
At last, Cleary heard the message he was hoping for.
'Wizard, this is Lion. I have cleared the security fence and have visual of the target landing zone. We're almost home.'
'Roger that, Lion,' Cleary answered with relief.
He watched as the front element of the stick moved slightly to the right. They were preparing to fly a downwind and base leg of their flight in preparation for turning into the wind and landing. Sharpsburg, the lead man, turned perpendicular to the direction of flight. The stick of canopies immediately behind him followed suit, turning on the same imaginary point in the sky as Sharpsburg.
'Wizard,' Lion reported, without bothering to identify himself, 'five hundred feet and preparing to land.'
Cleary did not reply. There was no need. He watched as the first canopy landed on target and deflated, followed by the second, then the third. As the men touched down, they jettisoned as much gear as possible and took up a hasty defensive perimeter.
Now at 500 feet, Cleary observed Jacobs's SEAL team mirror the landing of the Delta team. Next came Garnet and his Marines. Now directly over the imaginary turning point, he tugged at the left toggle and slid around ninety degrees for one hundred meters, repeating the maneuver until he was facing the wind. He felt it push into his body, slowing the canopy's forward movement. Then Cleary brought both toggles to the halfway point and studied the frozen ground and his altimeter collectively.
Two hundred feet came quickly. The ground was rushing up to meet him. Past the one-hundred-foot mark, he let up on his toggles, completely entering free flight. Then, relying on his expertise and experience, Cleary pulled the toggles all the way down until they reached full extension, and he touched the Antarctic's icebound surface as lightly as if he'd stepped off a curb.
He quickly unbuckled his harness and dropped the parachute system that had carried him safely to his destination. Then he knelt down and prepared his Spartan Q-99 Eradicator, locking and loading it for immediate use.
Garnet, Sharpsburg, and Jacobs were at his side within thirty seconds. They coordinated briefly, checking their position and making final preparations for their movement toward the control center of the facility. After issuing final instructions to Sharpsburg, who would be in charge of the assault team if Cleary was killed or badly wounded, he peered at the facility through his field glasses. Not seeing any signs of defensive activity, Cleary ordered the teams to move out tactically, with himself in the middle of the patrol.
41
Loath to die, the wind struggled to stay alive until there was no more strength left in it. Then it was gone, leaving the sun to transform the last of the windblown ice crystals into sparkling diamond dust. The dismal gray light gave way to a blue sky that returned as the Snow Cruiser forged relentlessly across the ice shelf. The mighty machine had proven herself a tough customer. Engines running faultlessly, wheels churning through the snow and ice, she never stalled or floundered during the malicious blizzard. But for the muffled tone of her exhaust, the stillness that settled over the desolate ice shelf made it seem like oblivion.
Warmed finally by the engines, Pitt felt ready to face reality again. He took over the wheel from Giordino, who found a broom in the bunk compartment and used it to brush the ice buildup off the windshields. Released from their frozen bondage, the windshield wipers finished sweeping the glass clean. The Rockefeller Mountains materialized in the distance and rose above the bow of the vehicle. They were that close.
Pitt pointed to a series of black smudges on the sun-splashed white horizon slightly off to his left. 'There lies the Wolf mining works.'
'We did good,' said Giordino. 'We couldn't have wandered more than a mile off our original track during the storm.'
'Another three or four miles to go. We should be there in twenty minutes.'
'Are you going to crash the party unannounced?'
'Not a wise move against an army of security guards,' answered Pitt. 'That low rock ridge protruding from the ice that angles toward the base of the mountains?'
'I see it.'
'We can run along out of sight of the compound, using it for cover while we close the final two miles.'
'We just might make it,' said Giordino, 'if they don't spot our exhaust.'
'Keep your fingers crossed,' Pitt said with a tight grin.
They left the great ice plain of the Ross Ice Shelf and crossed onto ice-mantled land and skirted the ridge that trailed down from the mountain like a giant tongue, keeping below the summit out of sight of the mining compound as they crept ever closer. Soon they were driving beneath towering gray rock cliffs, with streams of ice hanging from their crests like frozen waterfalls, gleaming blue-green under the radiant sun. The path they took along the base of the mountains was not flat or smooth but strewn with wavelike undulations.
Pitt downshifted the Snow Cruiser into second gear to climb the series of low mounds and valleys. The burly machine took the uneven terrain in stride, her wide wheels moving the great mass up and down the grades without effort. His eyes swept the instrument panel for the tenth time in as many minutes. The temperature gauges indicated that the slow speeds at high rpms were causing the diesels to overheat again, but this time they could keep the door open without suffering the agonies of a blizzard.
They were passing the mouth of a narrow box canyon when Pitt suddenly stopped the Snow Cruiser.
'What's up?' Giordino asked, staring at Pitt. 'You see something?'
Pitt pointed downward through the windshield. 'Tracks in the snow leading into the canyon. They could have only been made by the treads from a big Sno-cat.'
Giordino's eyes followed Pitt's outstretched finger. 'You've got good eyes. The tracks are barely visible.'
'The blizzard should have covered them,' said Pitt. 'But they still show because the vehicle that made them must have passed through just as the storm was ending.'
'Why would a Sno-cat travel up a dead-end ravine?'
'Another entrance to the mining compound?'
'Could very well be.'
'Shall we find out?'
Giordino grinned. 'I'm dying of curiosity.'
Pitt cranked the steering wheel to its stop and sharply turned the Snow Cruiser into the canyon. The cliffs rose ominously above the ravine, their height escalating until the sun's light paled the deeper they drove into the mountain. Fortunately, the twists and turns were not severe, and the Snow Cruiser was able to deftly navigate her bulk around and through them. Pitt's only worry was that they'd find nothing but a rock wall, and then have to back the vehicle through the canyon, since there was no room to turn her around. A quarter of a mile from the canyon's mouth, Pitt braked the vehicle to a stop before a solid wall of ice.
It was a dead end. Disillusionment circled their minds.
They both stepped down from the Snow Cruiser and stared at the vertical sheet of ice. Pitt peered down at the tracks that traveled up the canyon and stopped at the wall. 'The plot thickens. The Sno-cat could not have backed out of here.'
'Certainly not without making a second set of tracks,' observed Giordino.
Pitt moved until his face was inches from the ice, cupped his hands around his eyes to block out the light, and stared. He could make out vague shadows beyond the ice barrier. 'Something is in there,' he said.
Giordino gazed into the ice and nodded. 'Is this where somebody says, `Open Sesame'?'
'No doubt the wrong code,' Pitt said pensively.
'It has to be a good three feet thick.'
'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'
